


Captain's Orders

by TheGoldenAppleofAsgard



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Collateral Damage, Dubious Consent, Genesis being a diva, I may need to include a tag for that for later chapters..., Is there actually such a thing as cannon kink?, Kidnapping, M/M, The Pirate AU you didn’t know you wanted, because if so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenAppleofAsgard/pseuds/TheGoldenAppleofAsgard
Summary: Cloud waited, just to make sure the coast was clear, before he climbed the few remaining steps, careful to keep his footsteps light as he hurried over to the nearest open gun port, peering outside.A massive ship blocked most of his view, the polished bronze shine of the well-kept cannons surrounded by dark wood boarding the most immediate thing he could see. Everything else was shadows, the water between the vessels like a narrow channel in the limited space he had to look. The pirates had gotten close enough to board. Had they taken over the Dark Star? Was he alone?The cool edge of something very very sharp settled against the line of his exposed neck over the collar of his damp shirt.“Don’t move.”
Relationships: Angeal Hewley/Cloud Strife, Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos, Genesis Rhapsodos/Cloud Strife, Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair/Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth, Zack Fair/Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Genesis Rhapsodos, Zack Fair/Sephiroth
Comments: 188
Kudos: 507





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who knows absolutely nothing about ship layouts, pirate terminology and the technical names of period clothing? ME! But, a particular fanart by the absolutely wonderful creative genius that is BirdBlackSocialClub on Tumblr bit me something hard, and I had to write something. Exhausted brain or no! This is the fruit of that labour, written in 7 hours, within which I neglected to remember I am human and require food. Gosh.
> 
> Link to fanart: https://birdblacksocialclub.tumblr.com/post/631503759579676672/pirate-firsts-because-why-not
> 
> It might not be (read: definitely isn’t) what the original fanartist intended, but this is the plot bunny that kicked me in the face, so we’re just going to roll with it~
> 
> Tags will be updated as we progress. No set updating period on this one as I need to work on it as and when creativity strikes. 
> 
> Enjoy, my darlings!
> 
> \--

The cannonball that burst through the side of the ship made Cloud jump like he’d been shot, wood splintering only a few feet to his left, battering through the iron of the cell bars with a shockingly loud iron clang. The blond rolled onto his side, tucking his knees up and cradling his head from the worst of the debris, splinters of wood and sparks from the colliding metal raining down on the tiny cot he was sat on.

When he dared to open his eyes, it took him a few seconds to come to terms with what he was seeing. Why was there a cannonball in the brig? Cloud rolled to his feet, cursing under his breath as he raced to stamp out the few sparks that had caught on the thin blanket and the wood scattered over the floor before the fire could properly catch and spread, but as he tamped down the most immediate threat to his well-being, he became aware of the noise outside, the hole in the side of the Dark Star giving him access to the cool waft of fresh ocean air, and the shouting that rode in with it.

Were they under attack? 

It sounded like it, the deck above creaking to urgent life with the sound of hurried heavy footsteps. At least the cannonball had come into the brig, and not the armoury. There was too much gunpowder up there for anyone to survive if that had been targeted. Which could mean one of two things. Either, the enemy had lousy aim, had critically missed both the powder kegs, and managed to mess up the simple low shot needed to fill the hull with water. Or. It was a warning shot, and their assailants intended to board.

Cloud hurried over to the side of his cell, pressing up against the bars until he was the closest he could physically get to the hole in the side of the ship. He couldn’t see much beyond open water, and clear blue sky, but the frantic shouting up on deck was getting louder. Another crash rocked through the ship, and Cloud clung to the bars as the floor tipped beneath him with the force of it.

Did he just hear the word ‘pirates’?

No, no no no. Not today. They were just sailing the deeper waters out from the coast, headed to Junon to collect the Vice President of the Shinra Power Company after some dull ribbon cutting ceremony or other. It was supposed to be a simple, if slightly ostentatious pick up. They hadn’t even collected their passenger yet, so there was no way the attack was intended for bounty.

What could they be after? 

Cloud looked around his cell for anything he could use. His standard issue sword had been taken from the corner he usually propped it in when his fellow deckhands had locked him in the brig, soaking him through with the bucket of water he had hoped to use to clean the lower decks. He had no weapon beyond a small paring knife he kept tucked into his boot, but that wouldn’t help fight off pirates. He was still a little damp from being doused, and unable to get out. But, he had to help.

The blond looked over at the bars where they had been distorted by the cannon blast. The bend of them was perhaps big enough for him to squeeze through. He was small, after all. Something that had garnered him more attention than he’d liked. If he had more muscle, more height, like the others it might have made him a little bit less of a target, but his fair hair and pale skin were just too easy to pick out among the burly soldiers who had accepted the mission alongside him. 

Cloud crouched down on the floor, laying hands on the still hot metal of the cannonball where it was wedged against the bars. It burned. Cloud ignored the scald to his palm and reached back to the cot to grab the dripping wet vest he had removed after getting soaked and tossed into his cell, wrapping the metal so it wouldn’t hurt his hands further. They were still soft, not enough hard labour yet to build the callouses he’d need to be truly efficient on the top deck.

The ball was still warm as he pushed at it, dislodging it with a groan until it rolled free across the floor with the tilt of the ship. The gap in the bars was big enough for him to get his head and shoulders through. It would be a tight squeeze, but he’d managed worse before. His hips were skinny, so they wouldn’t be a problem, and after some truly creative cursing, Cloud managed to drag himself out of the other side into the open space of the lower deck. 

Just as he made it to his feet, the ship rocked heavily, a loud cracking noise like a musket had been fired right by his ear shuddered through the ship around him. Something that sounded disturbingly like a tree being felled made him frown, and he looked around the tiny enclosed area of the brig, trying to understand what was happening. They were in the middle of the ocean. There were no trees out here. A crash of the waves by the ship sent water spraying up hard against the starboard side, and Cloud braced himself against the barrel by his cell. 

He had to move.

Someone was screaming up on the above deck, loud enough that he could hear it even so far away as he was, before it abruptly cut off, and Cloud scrambled to his feet, staggering over to the door that would take him up to where he could be of use. He yanked it open, barreling up the steps louder than he hoped in his haste, using his hands to keep low in case there were already intruders on board. 

When he made it up onto the gun deck, it was deserted. The cannons were rolled back, not even in use or prepared for return fire, and there were strange black marks against the wall, something that looked oddly like scorching, but no fire hot enough to cause it in sight. There were shapes in the soot that looked suspiciously like bodies, and yet, no bodies were to be found. The iron tang of fresh blood was heavy in the enclosed air of the space, along with something that reminded him of the galley during meals. The scent of cooked meat. Cloud doubted that whatever he was smelling was the kind of thing to inspire hunger after he’d heard the screaming. 

There was no screaming, now. Everything seemed ominously quiet.

The deck above had eased down from a cacophonic din into the kind of silence that could not be heard over the rippling waves of the sea. The sound of boots scuffing over-head was minimal, but there was no congratulatory shouting, no braying of victory. No march of boots down the steps to crack open the celebratory reserves set aside for the soldiers manning the ship.

It was a very bad sign.

Cloud waited, just to make sure the coast was clear, before he climbed the few remaining steps, careful to keep his footsteps light as he hurried over to the nearest open gun port, peering outside.

A massive ship blocked most of his view, the polished bronze shine of the well-kept cannons surrounded by dark wood boarding the most immediate thing he could see. Everything else was shadows, the water between the vessels like a narrow channel in the limited space he had to look. The pirates had gotten close enough to board. Had they taken over the Dark Star? Was he alone? 

The cool edge of something very sharp settled against the line of his exposed neck over the collar of his damp shirt.

“Don’t move.” 

Cloud tensed, alarm bells singing in his mind enough to freeze him up completely. There was a shadow at his back, one that he hadn’t heard approach but he could see it now, the darkness of it moving against the wood in front of his eyes. Despite the blade of a polished sword at his throat, Cloud contemplated disobeying the strangers request and throwing himself out of the gun port. He wasn’t a fair swimmer, but being sport for Pirate’s was hardly a less punishing past time, or so the rumours said. 

Just as he worked up the nerve to do it, to throw himself out into the sea, a dull solid noise echoed behind him, and the cannon he was stood beside rolled forwards like a crew of eight had pushed it, settling into its port and cutting off his escape. 

“I can hear you thinking, Little One.” The voice was very nearly a purr, and Cloud rolled his shoulders back at the sound of it.

Little One? 

He wasn’t _that_ short. 

It was annoying to be constantly looked down on. So, he was blond. He was a Westerner, it was common there! And, so what if he found it hard to pack on muscle? He worked just as hard as anybody else. He’d broken the hand of a particularly handsy shipmate the other day for suggesting he had a pretty mouth. There was nothing weak about him at all beyond other people’s stupid opinions.

It was infuriating to be so looked down upon for such silly things. 

“Turn around. Slowly.” The tone of the voice was smug, self-satisfied in a way Cloud wanted to snarl at, but he tamped it down until the aggression would be of better use. He turned, the sword easing up off of his shoulder, just enough to not cut him as he moved, though the threat remained, turning his glare up at the pirate that had cornered him.

The man was handsome, blue eyes almost unnaturally bright in the dark, russet hair tossed by the sea air and loosely bound with a dark ribbon. His crimson coat was braided with gold, the leather soft-looking from excessive use, but well tended, and the sword Cloud could now tilt his head just enough to look at was engraved with faintly glowing runes.

Wonderful.

He knew exactly who this was. He knew. It should have sparked fear in him to be staring down a legendary blade at a legendary pirate Captain, but the irritation was still churning in his gut, and he didn’t quake at the expectant quirk of an eyebrow shot his way.

“Captain Rhapsodos, I presume.” Cloud was proud of the way his voice didn’t shake, how the words came out smoothly, almost bored. He forced his body to relax, to seem unthreatening. It had worked before. He’d been cornered in his hammock a few times, feigning sleep until he was certain the others had passed out. They thought if they caught him unawares, he would be more compliant, but the knife he hid in his own pillow had been used to threaten many lonely souls in the dead of night. 

That same knife was tucked into his boot. If only he could reach it.

“Well, aren’t you an audacious little surprise...” The blade turned flat against his shoulder, less dangerous that way, but the pirate Captain was watching him with something that looked suspiciously like intrigue. 

“Stop calling me ‘Little’.” Cloud snapped back, a hint of the snarl he’d managed to suppress leaking into the curt tone of his voice, even as his face remained blessedly unthreatening. He’d had very little interaction with pirates. This had been his first mission to Junon. All his other trips had been small, thankfully short and unadventurous treks given how long it took him to overcome his motion sickness. Unfortunately, his lack of experience dealing with the scourge of Gaia’s seas meant he was woefully underprepared when it came to bargaining with one.

“Ah, there’s a little fire in you.” Captain Rhapsodos stepped in closer, “I do enjoy that.”

Cloud struck, knuckles stinging with unexpected heat as he punched up at the flat of the blade, the sword lifting enough from his shoulder for him to collapse safely to the floor without cutting his ear off. The blond managed to grab the handle of his knife from his boot without it getting stuck or slipping from his fingers, and with his barely useful weapon in hand, he turned to roll under the barrel of the cannon he was pinned by. He was at least small enough to pull it off successfully. 

The pirate looked surprised by his daring for all of a few seconds, but when that wore off, a devious grin enough to shake Cloud’s limited confidence crept across his lips as he turned to follow, a saunter in his step that betrayed how much fun he was having.

The knife was pitiful, but Cloud held it up anyway as the redhead approached, his sword swinging in an artful twirl across his fingers. It looked effortless. Cloud grit his teeth and tightened his grip around the knife, not looking away as he backed up towards the stairs to the main deck.

“You sure you want to go up there, baby thing?” The pirate’s tone was nonchalant, “I wouldn’t advise it.” 

“Shut up.” Cloud stepped up onto the stairs, feeling unsteady when he couldn’t look behind him. Walking on stairs was hard enough on the ocean, but doing it backwards made Cloud feel nauseous in a way he could do without. He didn’t even want to use his hands for balance, the use of them far too crucial in fending off any attack that Captain Rhapsodos would spring on him.

“So rude...” The redhead came closer, his smile widening as though he were less offended than his words implied, “Going to have to teach you some manners, so you know how to address your betters. Don’t you worry your pretty head, though. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

Cloud nearly stumbled as the ship tilted a little too far right for him to compensate, his wet boot sliding on the stairs and almost sending him tumbling backward. The redhead lurched forward as if hoping to take advantage, but Cloud thrust his silly little knife out and the older man stopped, a lilting laugh filling the enclosed stairway like he was thoroughly entertained.

“You are just the most darling...” That elegant sword came up to point at Cloud’s face and he backed away from the tip of it, unwittingly exposing his throat to avoid getting his nose cut as glowing eyes stared up at him from the dark of the gun deck like a demon summoned from the depths, “I think I’m going to keep you.”

“Now, who’s being rude!” Cloud stepped awkwardly up two steps too fast as the pirate started climbing after him, slowly, taking his time as though he had no reason to be concerned. Cloud wanted to turn and run, but he knew the moment he turned his back, he would be caught, “You can’t just own people!”

“Says the Shinra lapdog. How long have they owned you, my dear?” 

Cloud wanted to throw his knife. He wanted to throw it so badly, but he needed it. The sun was beating down on the back of his neck now, catching in his hair and making his head warm as he backed into the heat of it. Cool open air washed over his damp clothes, making him shiver, and the pirate was looking up at him as though he was made of spun gold. He had no right to look at him that way. None at all.

“Oh, aren’t you beautiful.” 

Cloud bristled like he’d been insulted, mouth opening to curse the redhead out when a solid hand clamped down on his shoulder, strong enough to drag him up the rest of the stairs. His feet kicked uselessly in front of him and when he swung his hand back with the knife, intending to do at least a little damage to try and free himself, he found his arm stuck in an immovable grip, the long fingers of the man that held him tightening round his arm until his bones started to ache. 

With a cry of dismay, Cloud’s trembling fingers released his knife, blue eyes watching it clatter to the deck and roll down the first two steps. Then the sensation of air surrounded him, feet lifted off the floor as he was thrown, the hands releasing him and sending his body airborne. When he hit the deck again, it was hot and hard, and Cloud let out a cry as he landed awkwardly on his left shoulder, the pain of it jolting through him until he rolled to a stop against something smooth. 

A quiet hiss escaped him as he opened his eyes in the bright light of the sunshine, rolling off of his injured shoulder to lie flat on his back against what remained of the main mast. It was destroyed, cracked in half only a few feet up from where his head lay against the wooden boards beneath him, the entirety of the upper mast and its tangled sails laying over the deck and tipping down into the ocean.

Apparently, you could fell a tree in the ocean.

Cloud could feel his head ringing but he couldn’t move, the pounding throb through his shoulder inching out into the rest of his body like all of his limbs had a right to complain. 

“That was unnecessary, Sephiroth.” The clipped tone of the redhead was out in the open air too, no longer echoing ominously in the stairwell. He sounded displeased, but Cloud was too dizzy to care about that, his eyes rolling away from the light with a wince until the only thing he could focus on was the name he had spoken.

Sephiroth? The Silver General? 

He wasn’t real. 

He was a ghost story to frighten children. A tale that had spread so far and wide it had even reached his home town of Nibelheim in the far west, a place that was barren of all wealth, grown or made. A place pirates would never go for lack of loot to take, or climates to revel in. In winter, it was too cold to even sail, the waters more ice than liquid, but even so, the stories travelled, and the miles they crossed never robbed them of their lustre. The General was spoken about in hushed whispers, short stories that painted him as a revered pirate. Some even called him a Lord, but the fables varied from port to port. There had never been anything beyond rumour about him.

Warm hands cupped beneath his neck and Cloud let out a low growl of unease, swinging out and missing horribly with the arm that didn’t feel like it had been smashed upon a rock. There was a shadow over him, large, well-muscled. A stern face was looking down at him when Cloud blinked up at it, but shaking his head didn’t make his eyes work any better. It only sent jarring pain down his left hand side, forcing a keen from his mouth that sounded utterly pathetic.

“Lie still.” Something tingly soaked down into his chest, not quite warm, but fluttering and ticklish. Cloud tried to squirm against it, but he was held fast, one large palm against his upper chest, the other still supporting his neck. The weird sensation seemed to spread, and Cloud tried to gasp through it as the pain in his shoulder receded to a dull pulsing beat, sinking into the rhythm of his frantically beating heart.

Cloud surged up from the arms that held him and they immediately let him go, the wet leather of his boots scuffing the deck as he backpedalled into what remained of the main mast.

His fingers flexed, and he rolled his wrist, bent his elbow. Nothing felt broken, a far cry from the strange crunching he was absolutely certain he could feel only a moment ago. He could have sworn he’d done more damage than what he felt. He reached up to touch at his shoulder, expecting the short stab of pain that meant he’d broken himself, but it felt deeply bruised at his touch, painful, but not as bad as he expected. 

What was that feeling? That strange sensation that had sunk into his skin? Who had been touching him?

The man at his side moved to his feet, looking down on him from what Cloud could see was a very advantageous height. He was attractive in a way that was entirely different from Captain Rhapsodos, a sharp angled jaw and dark hair spilling out from under a red bandana, his blue eyes more a deep water blue than the redhead’s brighter, more shallow depths. A large sword was strapped to his back, as long as Cloud himself was tall, and wide enough to eclipse his skinny fame. 

It didn’t matter how big the sword was, Cloud refused to be cowed by it, and the man’s intimidating frown softened into something almost amused when the blond scowled up at him.

“Who are you?” He demanded, still too shaky to find his feet, but no less stubborn about it, “What do you want?”

“Oh, that’s new.” A jovial voice called down from the upper deck, and when Cloud squinted up into the sun, he could make out the figure of a boy not much older than him moving around the helm to slump onto his elbows on the rails overlooking the main deck, “Though, he’s a bit small for a mouth that loud, don’t you think?”

“Hush up, puppy.” 

Oh, no.

Cloud turned on his hip to crawl around the mast, away from the voice that was too close for his comfort. The dark haired stranger backed up to let him as Captain Rhapsodos approached, Cloud’s indignant yell splitting the cool breeze across the deck as strong hands grasped around his hips, and picked him up directly from the deck. Cloud kicked, and scratched, hell, he would have bitten if there was anything close enough to his face for him to try. 

Now that his head was clearer and the sun not so blinding, the decks around him looked horrendous. Streaks of dark blood were baking in the sun, sharp slashes carved in the wood so deep they appeared to leave tiny crevasses in the body of the ship, and worse, more of those mysterious scorch-marks, displaying almost human figures in the throes of death. 

What kind of fire could kill someone like that?

Cloud had no idea, but when he looked away from it, something even stranger caught his eye. Some odd sort of fluid was smeared across the rails surrounding the ship, the thick viscous drip of it glistening in the sun. It was everywhere, trails of it winding in snake like patterns across the deck, and even up the higher recline of the main mast where it lay broken across the ship. 

Cloud had no idea what could have caused it, but the myriad of damage scattered across the deck he had waxed to a nearly pristine shine early that morning sent a ripple of fear through him. He felt like his chest was hollow, pausing in his tantrum to fully take in the devastation around him.

There were no bodies, anywhere. No signs of life outside of the four pirates and himself. It seemed like a nightmare, some horrid dream that he should pinch himself awake from, but the ache of his shoulder worked better than any pinch to tell him that he was fully conscious, and what he was looking at was real. He almost wanted to ask where his crew was, but he didn’t want to tempt fate if they’d been sent to the depths and the pirates were still deliberating on if he should be sent to join them. The warm scent of wood smoke and spice invaded his senses and stirred him from his thoughts, as the Red Captain drew his stunned body closer, strong arms wrapping around him like ropes. 

“I’m so glad you weren’t on deck at the time, my lovely.” His words sounded almost like they were meant to comfort, but the voice itself was gently chiding, warning him not to do anything foolish, “It would have been a terrible waste.”

“Why wasn’t he up here with everyone else, though?” Solid feet slammed into the main deck as the younger pirate launched himself over the rails to join them, brushing off the darker man’s hand as it snatched at his tricorn to ruffle his hair, “Doesn’t seem like the type to cower below deck. Bit too brazen for that.”

Cloud tried to yank out of the arms that held him but Captain Rhapsodos lifted him with little issue, and Cloud felt his feet dangle uselessly even as he couldn’t look down over the arms that held him to see them do it. 

“Unknown. I found him by the cannons. Was going to slice him up until I saw that pretty face.” 

A hand snagged his chin and Cloud hissed as his head was yanked up, smiling blue eyes looking down at him from under the brim of the boy’s reclaimed hat. He had a pleasant face, his smile easy-going and almost friendly if not for the way he was tilting Cloud’s head this way and that to study him like livestock. Cloud noted the sharp cross of a scar over the pirate’s angular jawline.

“Oh, yeah.” The boy agreed easily, and Cloud was chagrined to realise no matter how close they were in age, now that they were practically nose to nose, he was significantly shorter and smaller than the boy pawing at his face, “Definitely nice to look at.”

Cloud snapped after the bare hand with his teeth, not even balking when he realised there was blood over the back of the boy’s hand. 

“Woah, there, spiky.” His head was pushed back roughly, and Cloud just managed to retreat his tongue before he caught it in the bite meant for the pirate, “Gutsy little beast. He suits you, Gen. I’m almost jealous.”

Cloud swung his foot out and managed to successfully plant it in the boy’s side, the satisfaction of watching it connect only dulled when a sharp spark of pain slid up his leg where he’d struck him. The boy was solid, bending into the kick like it hurt, but not enough. It was like he was trying to placate a child by proving they’d achieved something worthwhile. Cloud knew he’d floored bigger men with that hit before, so watching the other stand immediately after, rubbing at his side like he had a mild stomach ache was enough to wound his pride.

“I don’t know, puppy.” Captain Rhapsodos dropped Cloud down onto his unsteady feet, heavy hands cupping around the blond’s narrow shoulders before he could try to run, pinning him in place, “You seem to be getting along well. Maybe I’ll let you play with him.”

The dark haired boy stepped in closer, and Cloud backed into the redhead behind him as the shadow of the tricorn fell over his face. A rough calloused thumb rubbed over the bow of his lips and Cloud tried to shake it away, but it didn’t work, his head pressed back into the Red Captain’s chest as far as he could force it, the buckle of the pirate’s chest harness digging into the back of his skull.

“Wanna fess up, kid?” The happy tone in that voice was more subdued now, the boy sliding his thumb down into the dip below his lower lip so Cloud could speak, “Were you hiding below deck? Curled up in a corner, terrified, while we slaughtered your crew?”

Cloud summoned every inch of his ire, from every corner of his body that could feed it to him, and stopped just short of spitting in the boy’s face.

“My _name_ is Cloud, and I’m not the sort of coward that hides from bullies like you.” 

The boy reeled back with a peal of surprised laughter, such pure joy lighting up his face that it was difficult to imagine he was as cruel as he was. 

“Oh, this one is a firebrand, alright! Can we keep him, Seph? Please?”

“No.”

Cloud turned his head to look at the man who spoke, his breath catching in his throat in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Nothing to do with anger. 

The Silver General was beautiful. That had never been in the stories. He had heard many tales, all different. Blue eyes, brown eyes, never green. Never viridescent. Never wild and capricious as a cat’s, the very light in them enough to hold a man in place. Black hair, brown hair, grey. No, not grey, silver. So long and lustrous that it danced in the breeze like it’s own heralding flag. He was tall, svelte in the way he moved, black leathers and glimmering steel swathing him into a living shadow, and his sword caught the sun like it could soak up its power, long enough that Cloud swore it could reach him, even from so far away as he stood.

A single finger propped under his chin, gently pressing his mouth shut, and the boy beside him loosed another bright laugh.

“But, he’s cute. Don’t you think?” 

“I don’t care what you have to say, Sephiroth.” Captain Rhapsodos’ chest rumbled at his back and Cloud jolted back into his body at the feel of it, forgetting that he was being held at all as those piercing green eyes stared down at him, unimpressed, “This lovely creature is adorable, and I’m keeping it.”

“Genesis, you know we can’t allow witnesses.”

“He’s not a witness, are you Treasure?” Blazing blue eyes looked down at him and Cloud tried to yank free but he was held fast, the hand on his shoulder slithering down to curl around his waist, practically lifting him up onto his toes with no apparent strain as the redhead leaned down to stare directly into his eyes, “I could always gag you if you feel compelled to talk.”

“Get out of my face.” Cloud grouched back like a miserable wretch.

The redhead’s lips curved into an unnerving smile, “I’d like to see you make me, lovely thing.”

A hard kiss was pressed to the side of his head, and Cloud tried to recoil from it but there was nowhere to go. Instead, he was dropped down onto his feet again, a solid hand planted between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward. Resistance was futile, especially against the strength levied against him. Not that Cloud didn’t try, his boots skittering around the gouges in the deck when he wasn’t actively trying to dig his heels in, but Genesis was insistent, pressing him up belly-first against the rails and caging him in with his arms. 

The gangplank between ships was wide, heavy looking, not something he would have the strength to knock off the ship himself, but the pirates that had boarded the Dark Star seemed more than capable of moving it around individually. From what he’d seen of their strength, he knew now that Genesis had been able to move the cannon alone, and the boy had barely winced when struck. They were strong, unnaturally so.

The taller, more muscular man Cloud didn’t know the name of adjusted the gangplank to make sure it hadn’t shifted while they had been aboard, and the Silver General was the first to mount it, leaping up like he’d learned to fly. Effortless. Graceful.

He strode across it without a backwards glance, clearly leaving the issue of Cloud’s life, and the claiming of it in the hands of his crewmates. 

Cloud didn’t realise how much his hands hurt until Genesis pried them from the side of the ship, cooing gently in his ear. Then the heat at his back was gone, a burst of bright red leather flying in the wind as Genesis turned from his new perch on the gangplank to lean into an elegant bow, his hand outstretched in offering.

Did he expect Cloud to accept it?

“We can do this the easy way...” Genesis was a picture of beauty in motion as the wind kicked up around him, his hair feathering out in the breeze, coat swirling around him like a grand cape, as he reached forward even more with his hand, palm turned up to encourage Cloud to take it, “Or, the hard way.”

Well, those were rubbish options.

When Cloud turned to run, though there was nowhere to run to, a solid arm blocked his way before he’d even picked up enough speed to use his diminutive size to his advantage. It slammed hard enough into his gut that every bit of air in his system escaped in a rush, and Cloud let out a pitiful whine as he collapsed to his knees on the deck, firm hands allowing him no respite as they tugged him up to his feet just long enough to toss him over a wide shoulder.

That was when he realised who had caught him.

He still didn’t know his name.

Cloud’s face was inches from the sharp edge of the sword strapped to the dark haired man’s back, so close he could see his own wide pained eyes in the reflection of it, how gaunt and pale his face was and how messy his damp hair had become. Cloud balked at the sight of the blade mere inches from his nose, legs kicking as he tried to reel up, but his stomach hurt so much. His hands pushed at the shoulder underneath him, the world tilting wickedly as the man leapt up onto the gangplank after his crewmates. 

The boy followed last, a deceptively sheepish smile on his face as he jumped up after them.

“Sorry spiky, I should have warned you.” A rough hand pet at his hair and Cloud looked down at the ocean passing below him, that strange nausea rising up as he tried to breathe around the throb of his own stomach, “You should never pick the hard way.”

The pirate set him back down on his feet again when they reached the other side, the pirate’s ship immaculate and gleaming beneath his threadbare boots. Cloud felt trepidation kick up in his stomach as he folded his arms around it. It still hurt, but the hit had been curbed to disable, not to harm. He could tell from the apologetic smile the dark haired older man shot him as he made sure the blond was able to stand before he let go. 

“I got him, Angeal. Let me just-”

“No, puppy,” Genesis’ voice was smooth, but there was something off about it, “We need to sink the lesson in now. You know the rules.”

Cloud looked up at the boy as he reached under his tricorn to scratch awkwardly at his hair, a resigned look on his face as he turned towards Cloud, nudging him back towards the rail. The wood was darker, well kept and glossy as Cloud stared down at it. Angeal, the dark haired man he now had a name for, lifted the gangplank from between the ships with his bare hands, a sight that was astonishing as much as Cloud had expected it. He set it down against the main mast for the moment, though Cloud was certain it wouldn’t remain there. 

Warm fingers touched at his cheek and Genesis was at the side of him, demanding his attention. Cloud was loathed to give it, narrowing his gaze into a glare at the redhead even as his face was tilted back towards the Dark Star.

“You are lucky to be here.” Genesis told him, almost solemnly, and in front of Cloud’s eyes, his hands caught fire.

Cloud jerked forward in his shock, intending to help. No one deserved to suffer the kind of pain a slow death by fire could bestow, even one so lowly as a pirate, but the boy behind him wouldn’t let him move, hands lifting to wrap around his upper arms, holding him still. He looked up at him but the boy nodded back towards Genesis, eyes rapt until Cloud noticed the fire between the redhead’s palms was being stoked, gently tended. He was not on fire. He was not burning alive. 

He was using fire magic. 

The Shinra Power Company had searched for years for someone with the ability to produce and manipulate the planet’s energies, and Captain Rhapsodos made it look so easy, winding it around his fingers until it was large enough to rival a decent campfire. Cloud watched him work, unable to believe his own eyes. It was beautiful, the birth and fostering of forces he'd never witnessed before. He was tempted to touch it, to see if it was real, but when Genesis shot him a sharp smile and launched the fire in his hands onto the ruined deck of the other ship, all he could do was watch in dumbfounded horror.

It caught like dry kindling under a lit oil slick, the roar of it loud as the flame raced to devour everything around it. Cloud wrenched hard in the boy’s hands with a cry.

No one would find him if the ship burned. It would sink. 

Genesis' arms waved through the air like he was conducting an orchestra, artful and wonderful, if not for the chaos he was feeding. The fire followed his hands like he was guiding it, licking up the mast, down into the belly of the ship, and even up into the quarterdeck. It was easy to tell when it reached the armoury, the fire bursting outward in a wave of heat and crackling noise as the gunpowder caught, ripping through the middle of the ship until it was little more than a hollow bowl of flame. 

No attempt at salvage would have been possible after that, water and fire waging a war over the carcass of the Dark Star, the shell of it blackened to a charred inferno in the middle of the ocean. The upper decks burned long and hard before Genesis finally allowed the keel to yield, flooding the wreck with water.

It was practically unrecognisable, and as the blistered remains of it sank beneath the water, Cloud felt his own heart sink with it.

The redhead turned, his hands curving hot and unyielding around his jaw and Cloud was ashamed to feel his eyes spill tears he didn’t realise he could shed, as he looked up at the blurred image of the Red Captain in front of him. A firm kiss was pressed to his forehead, and Cloud could only weakly accept it, too drained to fight it off.

“Welcome to The Minerva, Cloud.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first. I am alive. 
> 
> I am so sorry to everyone who worried about me! It was not my intent to scare you with my sudden disappearance. Lots of overwhelming stuff happened, I was in a super bad place and all over the place at the same time, and writing does make me happy but I was just... so incapable for a while. I'm hoping to get back to my regular weekly updates soon, and while I know this isn't 'Tread Softly', I'm hoping it makes up for my absence. I will hopefully have the next chapter of 'Tread Softly' for next week, or the first week of Feb at the latest. I just gotta get my head back in the game, and try not to mess this up too badly.
> 
> My love to everyone who read this while I was away, and to everyone who commented. You guys have no idea how much your comments helped when I was ready to start pulling myself back together. Just... the support. The community. You're all so wonderful, so thank you, and I hope you enjoy this update! It looks like this fic is going to turn out to be another 'Was-gonna-be-a-three-chapter-thing-but-WHOOPS' piece. Tends to happen a lot with me. I just wanted my five favs to bang, and now there's plot. So, yes. Whoops. 
> 
> Shall we get into it?
> 
> \--

He was back in the Brig again. 

Admittedly, it was a much nicer one than he had been incidentally trapped in while aboard The Dark Star. Shinra had never much cared for the treatment or transport of their prisoners, but aesthetics aside, a prison cell was a prison cell, no matter how well-gilded.

Cloud propped his chin up over his folded arms, hugging his knees to his chest.

It had been a few days now, maybe three or so, since Zack had escorted him to the larger of the four available cells. One with an actual mattress on the suspended cot, to his disbelief, though he had yet to allow himself the comfort of sleeping on it properly. He was much too paranoid for that. Letting his guard down for even an instant could be the moment he regretted it. He’d learned as much in his former employment, and it was not a habit he was going to relax on any time soon.

The cells around him were clean, though not in a sense that they were regularly maintained. More that no one ever used them. After the burning display he’d been forced to witness before he’d been taken below deck, it wasn’t a difficult conclusion to reach that his captors rarely took prisoners.

Yet, by some inexplicable twist of fate, they had chosen to take him. 

Any number of reasons he could think of as to why only made trepidation curdle heavy in his gut. He wasn’t valuable cargo, wasn’t well known. No one would miss him enough to pay a ransom for him, and while he was quick, and not completely lacking in wits, Cloud knew he wasn’t particularly strong, or useful. All of those weaknesses had been made painstakingly clear in the bare few seconds of stalling he’d been able to delay his captors with before they snatched him up. It wasn’t like they had needed to chase him around his ship before they sank it.

There were very few things that he was good for, as he had been repeatedly told. 

His mind kept circling back to the compliments his former crew would pay him whenever they wanted to watch him bristle like an angry cat. He was small, he was pretty. They liked his wide eyes, his soft hands, his… well, the less said about his mouth, the better.

Cloud had taken it all with a grain of salt. He’d managed to keep himself unspoiled, careful to remain armed and cautious to any attempts to turn those words into actions, and it had worked well enough, up until he had been trapped in the brig aboard The Dark Star. Three of his four assailants had been recognisable from their previous harassment of him, but he hadn’t been able to fight all of them off before they had thrown him into the cell, locking him in and promising to bring him food later, if he was good for them. 

Thankfully, they hadn’t had the opportunity to come back before the pirates attacked. It wasn’t hard to imagine what they would have tried to do, and Cloud couldn’t find it within himself to feel bad about the fact that the only likely traces left of them were the waterlogged cinders sinking to the ocean floor.

Let them rot.

The point remained that their interest hadn’t been the first and only incident. Cloud knew what he looked like. Knew all of the things about himself that would be considered good selling points for slave traders and whore-mongerers in pirate ports, should his current hosts be inclined to hand him over to any of the lecherous bastards that would profit off of any one of those virtues.

That’s if there was no other reason to keep him.

Cloud knew he would be a fool not to acknowledge that all of those selling points were also very good reasons to keep him locked up as prime entertainment for any long and lonely voyages. That they would likely try to wear him down by keeping him isolated until he’d willingly spread his legs just to have someone to talk to. That they might even get tired of waiting and do what they wanted to him anyway. He was a captive, not a guest. There was no reason for them to be patient.

He didn’t even have his knife, now. He had nothing left to defend himself beyond his bare hands and his mattress if they held still long enough for him to smother them with it.

Cloud muffled his bitter laugh into his shirt sleeves, and decided not to dwell on it. 

Sadly, there was little else he had to distract himself from those dour thoughts.

The single porthole in the large space and the provision of meals to keep up his strength gave him a better gauge of the passage of time than any conversation that was attempted in the delivery of his rations, but it was still mind-numbingly easy to drift and lose track. No new faces ever came down to see him, just three of the only four he would recognise. They tried to speak to him, but he refused to respond, and it stung that his pride overwhelmed his loneliness, keeping him mute in the face of Zack’s playful jibes and Genesis’ obvious attempts to goad.

The last time he had permitted himself to speak had been when Zack had patted him down in search of weapons, or other items he might use to cause trouble before he tossed him into his accommodations. Hands had wandered a little too liberally, and when he had tried to protest, Zack had threatened to latch him to the bars using his own belts until he was satisfied that he wasn’t hiding anything. All with the kind of disarming smile that made Cloud feel like the fuss he was making was uncalled for.

Cloud had hated it. Hated standing utterly still while his boots were taken from him, while weathered hands skated with questionable pressure up over his thighs until he had to clutch onto the bars anyway to keep himself from flinching away. Zack had still taken his belt, looking directly into his eyes as the buckle came loose, something heated in his gaze that Cloud wanted no part of.

When he had been stripped down to his trousers and his shirt, he practically raced into his cell to prevent further loss, Zack staring after him with something impish in his face as he locked the bars behind him. 

Since then, he had tucked himself into the corner of his cot, the furthest from his cell door, only choosing to move when he was alone, or to retrieve his food after it had been left for him and the delivering party had returned to the upper decks. 

Sephiroth never came to see him. Angeal, very rarely. Cloud took it upon himself to stare resolutely at the wall, not even turning to face his company when they arrived, only able to tell each of them apart when they chose to speak. 

Zack would always try to warm him up with talk of the sunshine on deck, how refreshing the breeze was and would Cloud behave himself if he took him upstairs so they could enjoy it together. Cloud wasn’t dumb enough to believe there would be no payment required for such generosity, and spurned each of the offers with his silence. When Zack’s tricks didn’t work, Genesis would taunt him, calling him all sorts of endearing little nicknames to coax him out of his corner, promising to give Cloud his food if he was a good boy and came to the bars so he could hand-feed him. 

An empty threat. The plate was always there when Genesis left, unsuccessful in his attempts to rouse the ire of his prisoner. 

The food they gave him was unexpectedly wonderful, and more than enough to fill the void in his stomach that had been left there by weeks of hard tack on the Dark Star’s back and forth journey’s from local port to local port, before their course for Junon had been set. The plates he received now were piled generously with tender salted meats, soft potatoes and strange looking greens that he had never seen before that tasted absolutely delicious.

The food was always warm, always well prepared, settling into his stomach in a fond echo of his mother’s much-missed home cooking, and Cloud had barely hesitated on his first meal before he decided that of all the murderous intentions a pirate could possibly enjoy, tampering with his sustenance seemed the least interesting. He hadn’t died yet, and it would have been a shame to ruin the food with something as crass as poison.

He had given up on trying to chart their course. The singular porthole was too far away to correctly identify any nearby landmarks, and the rougher waters of the open sea were far too unfamiliar for him to hope he was anywhere near anything he would recognise. There was no way to tell which direction they were headed, even if he could keep a somewhat accurate account of how long it took to get there. His knowledge of the wider world was lacking. Aside from his trip from his little hometown in the mountains, across the continents to Midgar, most of which had been planned for him, his only travel had been the small treks the Dark Star had been making in the four weeks since he had been assigned to her.

Not that he had any handle on the navigation for any of those. 

Cloud knew he was hopelessly lost, at the mercy of people he didn’t know. Not worth a ransom, not worth much of anything beyond whatever entertainment value he held for the Pirate Captain and his crew. 

He was only grateful that beyond the manhandling and frisking he had had to endure during capture, no one had touched him, yet. No one had tried, or even threatened it. Cloud was not blind nor foolish enough to think it was mere disinterest. Not after the way Genesis and Zack had both looked at him, but it was still somewhat of a relief that the pirates were more honourable than his own crewmates in that their want remained a distant thing.

He didn’t know what he could do against any of them if that changed.

The door opening above him broke him from the dark turn of his thoughts, and Cloud quickly tilted his head away from the stairs and the heavy footfalls that fell upon them. Zack usually tumbled down them like he was hoping to trip, steel bones ready to challenge the damage it could cause. Genesis moved down them smoothly, the click of well-heeled boots like a practiced rhythm. These footsteps were neither of those, a steady beat that suggested ease and patience until the deck-boards creaked under his final step, followed by an even gait that came closer in its own time, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with the awareness of being watched. 

Angeal, then.

Cloud waited for the mouth-watering waft of the evening’s meal to reach his nose as footsteps approached his cell, eyes resolutely staring at the wall and away from the man carrying it, but no such tell-tale scent became apparent. Unusual. It was commonplace for the food to be so well-seasoned that it was an immediate feast for the senses. Scent, then sight, then taste and texture.

Had they finally lost patience with trying to earn his favour?

“I can see why Genesis is in a snit, now.”

Cloud did not turn his head as he so badly wanted to when Angeal’s voice reached him. It was close, along the bars, his tone warm and faintly amused.

“Proud little thing, aren’t you?”

The sound of a key in the lock was enough to make Cloud scramble to his bare feet, eyes whipping around to glare at Angeal as the burliest of his four captors stepped into the cell, hands empty of food, and the door left wide open behind him. If he wasn’t here to feed him, there was only one thing he could want, and Cloud was ready to fight to keep it from him. 

There was no getting around the fact that it would be a short battle.

There was no room to move around the pirate, his broad shoulders wide even without the heft of his sword to frame them, thick arms and powerful legs testament to the strength he carried. Getting anywhere near the door without getting within arms reach looked practically impossible. Cloud could remember how fast Angeal was the last time he’d tried to run, and how quickly the pirate had squashed that hope with one swing. 

His stomach throbbed at the memory of it, even three days later.

It was not a stretch to acknowledge that he was cornered, defenceless, and any route to escape put him too close to harm’s way.

Cloud backed up, tracked by sharp deep blue eyes. Angeal seemed to be assessing him, gaze lingering pointedly on his face and the expression of wary terror he wasn’t quite able to hide, before those eyes swept down over the rest of him as if to weigh him up, and Cloud gave in to the full body shiver curling at the edges of his nerves. He was too caught up in his own head to notice the deep frown that curved Angeal’s mouth at the sight of it.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Oh?” Cloud wanted to bite his tongue so badly, to keep quiet and not make the situation worse, but Angeal had already taken account of his pride and how deeply it ran, “You gonna promise to make it good for me? Make me enjoy it? No, thank you!”

He didn’t wait for his fate to come to him, ducking recklessly low and barrelling forward with only the scantest glimmer of hope, feinting to the side at the last minute to avoid what he hoped would be a lunge to grab him. 

Angeal didn’t move in the way he anticipated, simply bracing himself in the open doorway, spreading his hands, and crouching low enough to wrap thick gloved fingers around one of Cloud’s thin shoulders as he tried to swerve around the larger man. The world spun and Cloud found himself yanked around and pinned, his back to a solid chest, his own arms crossed over his ribs and held firmly. He tried to kick with his legs but when Angeal stood back up to his full height, it was all Cloud could do to keep the tips of his toes on solid ground to support his own weight.

“Put me down!” He tried to rail against the grip, but he had no leverage, and panic surged like a wave inside of him at the thought that he’d made himself such an easy catch, “Don’t touch me!”

“Cloud. I need you to listen to me.”

“I would rather die! Let go!” Cloud could feel his ribs closing in around his lungs like a noose pulled tight, his heart fluttering frantically as if it were trying to break out of his chest. His throat felt sticky and far too narrow to allow his breath passage, stupid tears filling up his eyes that he blinked back furiously. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t!

Angeal turned them around, and Cloud could do nothing but stagger with him as he backed up until the cot hit the back of his knees. His body was forced to concede to the arms around it, and the blond hollered louder as he was dragged down into the pirates lap, well-muscled limbs wrapped around him with all the finality of a vice. 

He couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t scream, because no one would come to help him. Couldn’t fight, because he wasn’t strong enough. Couldn’t run, because he was already trapped.

His remaining clothes were threadbare. Angeal would tear them like tissue paper, and then his body would follow. Ripped to pieces like meat, because he’d never done anything like what he knew was going to happen to him. Had never dared let anyone get close enough to take that from him. Air burned like fire inside of him, as trapped as he was and the treacherous tears spilled over as he sobbed and kicked and wailed. So much time he’d spent guarding against everything, only to fail. The fire burned cold in his veins, and he realised that he was spiralling into madness, his muted sounds of terror dwindling with his lack of breath, but... Angeal wasn’t doing anything.

Nothing was happening.

The realisation was enough to break his concentration, and Cloud drew in a ragged mouthful of air that hurt more than it helped, pausing to take stock of the situation.

Gloved fingers were resting in the dirty tangle of his hair, angling his head until his ear was pressed against the steady pounding of a slow-beating heart. Breaths. In, and out. Soft words. Cloud blinked, throat sore as he swallowed the lump he found in it. It took a moment before he realised he’d fallen completely quiet, and that Angeal’s voice was… actually quite soothing. The fingers on his head were smoothing circles against his scalp, leather soft from use a calming sensation against sensitive skin, and the arm around his chest felt less like a restraint and more like a brace. 

“Focus on my voice, Cloud. Just on me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

A distant part of him, one unphased by the rarity of a pleasant touch wanted to scoff, wanted to argue, but the confusion was too much. He was stuck. Angeal could take whatever he wanted, so why wasn’t he?

A noise like a keen of distress bubbled out of his mouth with a questioning lilt to it, and Angeal leaned his head down, a grounding weight against the top of Cloud’s own as his body rocked slightly, taking Cloud with him in a gentle sway. When the blond tried to wriggle his hands free testingly, Angeal flexed his grip around them and kept them still, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt beyond the aches and pains of his less than gentle capture. His clothes were fine. He wasn’t being touched in a way that could be interpreted as anything other than a comforting cradle. 

The adrenaline that seized at him like grasping fingers seemed to wither with every greedy breath he took, oxygen unfurling the panicked clenching of his lungs until all that was left in the wake of his debilitating terror was exhaustion, swimming through his veins until it stole all the strength he could muster. The brig was quiet, but for Angeal’s soft murmuring and the sound of breaking waves against the side of the ship, and as his fury receded to leave the quiet swell of fear behind, Cloud sank boneless into the arms around him. He’d never felt so still, and so calm despite the clamouring of his stinging nerves. He’d never felt so utterly tired with someone else so close since he had left his mother in Nibelheim. 

His eyes burned, but his body didn’t respond to his need to squirm his way free from the curl of the large arms around him.

Why did Angeal feel so safe, even as every instinct he had screamed for him to run?

Warm breath stirred the hair at the crown of his head where the pirates cheek still rested, a soft gust of a sigh, as if the worst were over, but the rocking motion continued, soothing in its predictability.

“Would you like to come upstairs, Cloud? Get some fresh air? See the sky?”

At first, the voice that spoke was just a resonance, just a low bass noise until the words untangled themselves enough to filter in. Cloud blinked and his eyes felt tacky, lashes sticking together from tears and tiredness. 

Outside? Angeal wasn’t going to… 

Apparently not, as Angeal seemed to take his silence as agreement, climbing to his feet and setting the blond on his trembling legs. Large hands loosened around his arms, still weighted against his skin through two layers of cloth in a way that felt oddly warm, just in case he became unmanageable, but not holding on to him in a way that made him feel trapped. 

Cloud drew a shaky breath into his aching lungs and looked ahead at the open cell door. If he made a break for it, Angeal would surely catch him, and even if not, he knew the trick by now. Corralled by one pirate below deck, into the arms of the three above. Better to not risk it. Angeal may be trying to earn his trust only to try and test his responses. Would he run? Did he need to be locked up? Cloud needed them to trust him if he was ever going to escape.

The cells were too well-made to get out of without the key.

The strangest noise burst out of him when Angeal moved from his back to give him space, his arms sliding away until he was completely without the man’s warmth as an anchor. It was a jarring sensation, unexpected enough that it left Cloud feeling viciously cold, unbalanced in a way he could not prepare for as he listed uneasily to the side on unsteady legs that had nothing to do with the tilt of the ship. Had he just whimpered? Did that sound just come out of his mouth? 

Cloud’s hands clamped instantly over his treacherous lips, muffling himself as he stared at the floor in horror at the embarrassing sound that had escaped him. 

He’d been well fed, given more than enough water to stave off dehydration. He’d moved around his cell as often as he could when he wasn’t being watched to keep himself limber and ready to take advantage of any opportunity he found fit to make use of. Sure, he was sore, and a little tired after three days in a confined space with little sleep, and the exertion of his panicked tantrum, but he was mostly healthy. He was exactly how he expected to feel. How he had felt ever since he’d left home.

So, why were his knees weak? Why was he shaking? Why did he ache in his chest, the memory of being wrapped in warm arms something unexpectedly wonderful even as he refused to allow himself to dwell on it? 

Was he right before? Had his isolation made him hungry for company, even that of those that held him against his will?

Was there an explanation for all of the unwanted feelings striving for his attention? Or, was he simply weak?

Cloud fell still, his tremors all but withered away with the rest of his questions as Angeal’s large palm came down on his shoulder, the softness of his gloves apparent even through his thin shirt as strong fingertips circled in against his collarbone in a calming stroke. Cloud wanted to push it away, the hand that eased him so softly, but they were already moving, Angeal guiding him towards the open cell door. Cloud did not look up at him for fear of what the pirate might find in his face if he looked upon it. The conflict he knew he was too torn to hide.

The grip on his shoulder was firm, but not painful. Strangely grounding as it kept Cloud upright and moving, almost without conscious thought. The cell door closed behind them, barely any sound to the well-oiled hinges, but Angeal did not lock it. There would be no need, with the only prisoner onboard being escorted up the wooden steps to the upper decks.

It was a short walk, but Cloud did not notice most of it, only stirring awake from his daze when the peaceful curl of a gentle breeze was brushing its fingers against his face like a doting parent, tugging at his clothes and hair in a playful ruffle. It was refreshing enough for him to open his eyes, taking in the spread of the sky and the world below it. The dim evening light was gentle after so long below deck, the heavens cast in shades of pink and orange until the world was aglow. The shifting tides rolled in easy waves beneath the ship, stretching out over the horizon with nothing to interrupt them, and Cloud felt the disappointment at his correct assessment sink like a stone in his stomach.

They were in the open sea. 

That left very little in the way of options. His lack of swimming prowess would drown him before he could even hope to find land if he did manage to escape, but Cloud knew with all the conviction of his heart that if it came to choosing that over whatever nefarious plan Genesis and his crew were keeping him for, he would still consider it as an option.

Those were decisions to be made when he had a better idea of how much danger he was in.

Angeal urged him out further into the light of the sunset, the deck still warm from the heat of the day beneath his bare feet, and Cloud took in a deep breath, the scent of the salt spray filling up his lungs. That one breath alone was enough to make him feel woozy and feather-light, the slow expulsion of it stealing most of the tension in his body from him when he let it go, and Cloud tilted his face up lazily into the evening air, like a cat bathing contentedly in a sunbeam.

The pirate beside him huffed a quiet laugh, and despite his better judgement, Cloud turned his head to look at him, unprepared for the weight of the gaze that looked back. Angeal was handsome in the light, his dark hair made darker by the brightness around them, the lines of his strong face shadowed in places that made him seem carved from flesh-coloured stone. 

The hint of a smile at the corner of his proud mouth and the fond look in his eyes were completely unexpected, and Cloud looked away from them swiftly, shifting awkwardly under the hand on his shoulder as he bit at his lip to centre himself. Why was he looking at him like that? They didn’t even know each other. He’d literally been attacked, and then kidnapped. He was a prisoner. What right did Angeal have to look at him like that?

Cloud buried the bubbles of curiosity that tempted him to look back. To see it again. He wouldn’t. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t planning to stay, one way or the other, and no falsely contrived emotion or badly interpreted look was going to change that. Was it a trick? Pirates were dishonourable in every fashion. Shinra had made that clear in the few years he’d trained under them, hammering it into their recruits like a mantra branded into skin. Kindness was earned, not given. That was something he’d learned through experience. 

Was it just another way to bring his guard down?

Cloud resolved himself not to fall for it.

He’d just decided to swipe Angeal’s hand from his shoulder, when another shadow approached from across the deck, stretching in the dying light like a spectre. Cloud knew the shape of it before he looked up to see the person it was attached to, and the confirmation came with the rhythmic sound of familiar footsteps.

“Well, now. Isn’t this the most delightful surprise?” 

“Genesis,” Angeal greeted, his tone somewhere between welcoming and warning, although Cloud wasn’t sure what to make of it, “Ready for dinner, already? Quite unlike you.”

“Not in the least.” Genesis parried back, eyes fixed on the blond beside his crewmate, expression wolfish, “Your cooking is always a pleasure, my love, but I will confess I caught an entirely different scent that piqued my interest...”

Cloud flinched his shoulders back to fight from curling up with shame and scowled, put out more by the fact that Genesis seemed delighted to see him so churlish.

“That’s what you get when you leave a person in a cage for three days.”

Genesis shook his head and laughed, the sound of it strangely musical, shoulders shaking under his mirth. Cloud noted he looked less grandiose without his imposing red leather coat, and the harnesses for his many weapons. The bright white of his shirt was just loose enough to catch in the wind, but bound so tightly in the sash at his waist that the shape of him was still enough to inspire jealousy. He looked clean and well-dressed even in his comfort, red hair dancing in the breeze. 

Cloud felt like a filthy little deck-rat just standing next to him, and didn’t enjoy his dishevelment being pointed out with such candor in the least. 

“Don’t willfully misunderstand me, Little One,” A gloved hand reached out to flick over the limp tangle of blond hair wilting over his brow, capturing it swiftly enough that Cloud couldn’t back away without losing it at the root as Genesis pressed closer, his smile saccharine even as his blue eyes burned, “I’ll bet you still taste delicious.” 

Cloud felt his ire rear up even as Angeal tugged him back to put space between his prisoner and his Captain, and the blond was just rattled enough to allow it, stumbling until the now familiar feeling of that broad chest against his upper back cloaked him in a strange blanket of security. The realisation that Angeal was so much bigger than he was hit Cloud like a streak of low lightning, but the thought didn’t linger long as Genesis followed, twirling Cloud’s lock of hair around his fingers playfully, gazing down into the pale face that looked up at him.

“Perhaps, if I am lucky, Angeal will put _you_ on my plate this evening, hmm?” The hand in his hair slipped down his jaw to capture his chin in its grip, tugging his face up until Genesis was breathing lightly over his lips, and Cloud grabbed at the redhead’s wrist with both hands to try and push it away, even as his efforts proved fruitless, “A tender morsel like you would quite sate my appetite.”

The implications alone welled up fear and fury until they clashed inside him like a turbulent storm, and the shivers that broke out over his skin and wracked him felt like too many things to recognise all at once. Cloud’s fingers tightened around the redhead’s wrist until dull nails dug into the soft skin there, and Angeal’s low warning call of his Captain’s name was a growling roll of thunder, the sound of it seeming somewhere far away instead of over his left shoulder.

“I hope you choke on me.” Cloud hissed up into the handsome face a breath away from kissing him, leaning into the hand on his face like he was daring the redhead to do it, his entire body alight with adrenaline that made him feel too exposed and utterly reckless.

Genesis hummed thoughtfully, as he shook Cloud’s hands away from his wrist like they were spun webs, the ease of it so simple and frightening that Cloud let his arms fall limp to his sides in his surprise, and the feeling of fingers sliding away from his face left a trail of sensitive tingles in their wake. 

“You would be wise not to tempt me.”

The pirate finally moved back, easing away like he’d gotten exactly what he came for and felt all the merrier for it, eyes dropping in an unsubtle manner to stare at Cloud’s mouth in a way that made him wish he didn’t have one. Cloud stared resolutely back, fighting the urge to burrow back into Angeal’s embrace like the other pirate would even dare to protect him from his own crew. He knew he wouldn’t, even if it felt like he had in some way. 

“I will see you both at dinner, then.” Genesis’ smile was perfectly polite when his eyes strayed up in a last glance to Angeal who was still as a predator mid-hunt at his back, and Cloud had barely any chance to wonder what Genesis found there before he turned on his heel, and walked away, the last light of the sunset leaving with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much to everyone who read and commented. I appreciate you! All my hearts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I fell into Angeal-simp mode for this chapter, and I'm not even sorry. I was going to try and update yesterday, but then my brain rebelled, and I deleted what I wrote and rewrote it from Angeal's perspective for some change of pace (Read: Because I'm a nutcase, and the stars weren't right for a Cloud POV) 
> 
> P.S. Everyone is a lech for Cloud. EVERYONE!
> 
> I do hope you enjoy! 
> 
> \--

Genesis was particularly lovely when he walked away. Angeal would be the first to acknowledge that.

Whether the walking away was from a kiss or a conflict, the bliss at watching him go was partly to do with the view, mostly to do with the peace, and always with the knowing that he wouldn’t go far, that he would always return. As it said in that book that he could never put down, nothing would forestall it. 

The specific brand of bliss that Angeal felt on this departure was more relief than pleasure as the lovely creature backed into his chest remembered to breathe again, the hunch of his wary shoulders loosening in tandem with the widening distance between himself and Genesis’ fading shadow. That was something at least. With the amount of tension in that young body, it was surprising Cloud hadn’t fossilised into a ball already, even without Genesis’ needling.

His Love never could resist a good poke when he knew where the weak spots were. That, and his fiery temper were two of his more obvious flaws. He’d perfect his skills at the former on Sephiroth more often than anyone else, pride driving him to affect their most taciturn lover in any way he could, just to prove he could. Zack was a close second, when Sephiroth refused to take the bait. Their puppy never could keep his emotions in check, and while the lovely heated tumbles those arguments had resulted in had led to some quite spectacular recollections, Angeal doubted such tactics would work on Cloud. 

There were riddles yet to be unravelled with that one. Some apparently too delicate to be brushed by Genesis’ teasing barbs.

The memory of what had happened below deck only a short while ago was still jarringly fresh in his head, Cloud’s muffled sobs as he thrashed desperately in his arms still ringing in his ears like a devastating echo. With those disturbing implications in mind, Angeal did not wait any longer to turn Cloud, and guide him from the open deck to the enclosed alcove that led into Sephiroth’s cabin to avoid any further confrontation.

He would need to speak to Genesis about his very forward way of flirting. 

Cloud turned his head to watch the door as it opened, leaning forward just a little to peer at the diamonds of stained glass that made up the window and the light that played through them, before Angeal ushered him inside. There was only a little resistance, as if Cloud’s eyes fixed on the large draping canopies surrounding the sizable bed the moment the door became less interesting and his immediate reaction was to refuse to get closer to it, but while he was a hearty little thing, he didn’t have the physical strength to resist, and it was easy to move him.

The room was impressive by ship standards, and filled with all manner of comfort, it being the place they gathered together when in need of company instead of personal space. A warmly decorated haven for a lifestyle that did not usually permit such opulence. Thick velvet curtains were pushed back from the gallery windows lining the back of the cabin, the clear clean glass usually filtering in an abundance of natural light when it was available, enough to fill the space on its own. With the sun put to sleep for the day, Zack had been kind enough to light the sconces around the room with the fire materia he had used to heat the gently steaming bath towards the back corner. It was a large tub, deep enough to comfortably bathe three should it be required, the floor around it covered in overlapping rugs to keep the chill of the boards from bare feet.

Angeal was quick to let go of Cloud as soon as possible, letting the boy scurry into whichever corner of the room he found most defensible as he turned to close the world out with the door. When he turned around again, he found Cloud closer than he expected, given the size of the cabin itself. It was the largest on the ship for a great many reasons, the most important being Sephiroth’s need to stretch out when he shifted. That he refused to go into the water to do so was still a bone of contention among the four of them as it wasn’t healthy in the slightest, but that change of heart could only come with time. 

Cloud was hovering nervously behind the desk, eyes flicking from its paper-strewn surface and back to Angeal like he couldn’t decide which one he trusted less, his expression completely betraying how badly he wished he’d picked a different place to stop. That was a fair enough assessment. Cloud clearly had the misconstrued perception that he’d be bent over the nearest available surface as soon as he looked away from whoever was in the room with him, and while he was an utterly desirable little thing beneath three days worth of nervous sweat, Angeal wanted more than anything to cure him of that fear.

“Here is what’s going to happen.” He kept his voice low as he moved over to the bed, only watching Cloud as much as was necessary to make sure he didn’t pocket Sephiroth’s letter opener to stab Genesis with later, taking a seat on the edge of the stuffed mattress, “I am going to sit here, and you are going to go behind that screen, disrobe, and then climb into that bath.”

Cloud followed the movement of his pointing finger with his eyes, the dour expectation of his countenance shifting into adorable confusion with every word. He didn’t move, probably trying to figure out which part of the plan laid out before him sounded the most dangerous. 

Silly boy.

“You have nothing to fear in here. I only want you to be clean, and comfortable.” Angeal moved his hands to his lap where Cloud could see them, maintaining eye contact with spooked blue eyes. They really were quite lovely, an unenhanced shade as natural as the sky, but so very vivid in colour. They would only be prettier if the boy would stop being so damned stubborn and do what he was told, but while his eyes shifted towards the gently steaming bath that Zack had prepared before he made himself scarce, he made no move towards it.

Seconds ticked by in anxious silence, a most uncomfortable stalemate.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“I am trying to be patient with you, because I know you’re still scared.” Angeal could hear the tone in his voice that brooked no argument, and he tried to curb it, but the flinch he received in response told him he hadn’t done a very good job of it, “I will only move if you do not do as I ask, or if you try to claim a weapon to attack with. So far, you are not doing as I have-”

“I’m not scared of you.” 

The words were spit out before he’d even finished speaking, Cloud’s voice trembling through its conviction even as he spoke, and Angeal let himself laugh. Only softly. Only enough to convince Cloud he was being utterly foolish, no matter how refreshing he was in his feistiness. The blond remained where he was, holding ground like he was winning some kind of fight, but Angeal knew how to use his size to intimidate and was not afraid to do it, fingers flexing against his knees as he made to stand, fully intending to herd the boy towards his bath before he could waste it. The minor movement seemed to work wonders all on its own, as Cloud all but tripped over his bare feet to scuttle across the room, and behind the privacy screen. 

It was barely that, the faintly glowing lamp attached to the wall behind it throwing silhouettes through the thin fabric that covered each frame. Genesis had thought it very novel, and used it often to tease his lovers as he discarded clothing for the evening, swaying his hips and stretching long slender arms over his head to expose the length of his body in shadow only. 

Cloud’s silhouette was nothing like that, shy fingers plucking at his shirt like he was afraid to discard it before he huffed in a deep breath and yanked it over his head, clutching it to his chest for a moment before he let it drop. His ratty trousers and underwear soon followed, pooling around his ankles on the floor, thin arms wrapping around himself as he seemed to balk at being so utterly exposed in a room with another person. When he finally plucked up the courage to peek around the edge of the screen to gauge the distance between himself and the bath, his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment at the realisation that Angeal would see him naked before he could reach it.

Angeal did not look away when those enchanting blue eyes moved back to him. It seemed Cloud listened best when he was given direct instructions, so he stared back, unblinking, mouth in a stern line as he inclined his head towards the bath in a clear command. No compromise.

Cloud hesitated for just long enough to steel his resolve, before he rushed out from behind the screen, looking determinedly ahead and not at Angeal at all as he made for the deep submerged metal tub. He paused at its side to test the temperature before he climbed in, but it was long enough that Angeal got a scintillating view of most of his body before Cloud splashed water everywhere in his haste to hide himself.

He was surprisingly well-toned from hard work, despite his small stature, strong calves, and lightly muscled arms. Most of the definition he had had been hidden beneath the rags Shinra had given him as a working uniform, but stripped of all of that, the boy was wreathed in fair skin that looked soft to the touch. A dusting of charming light freckles decorated the round of his shoulders, and the swell of beautiful thighs thick enough to grab made Angeal’s fingers flex again on his knees as he persuaded himself to keep his distance. It had been extremely hard when he’d caught a brief glimpse of the boy’s ass as he swung a leg over the lip of the tub, round enough on his small frame that Angeal wanted to put teeth to it just to feel the muscle yield under his bite.

It looked absolutely delicious.

Angeal was almost tempted to have Cloud stand back up from his huddle in the water, just so he could have another look at him, perhaps a more frontal view this time to take in those sweet little pink nipples, the rather severe curve at his slender waist, and the hang of his cock.

‘No,’ Angeal thought to himself as Cloud sank into the water up to his neck, cheeks burning brightly in mortification, ‘Those short few seconds were not nearly enough.’

It was the kind of body that made Cloud seem like he could be a strong swimmer, if he knew how. Angeal doubted that he did. Aside from the one opportunity that Genesis had crowed about scuppering with a cannon of all things, Cloud had not made any obvious attempts yet to throw himself overboard, and that kind of escape route was the chosen of many who preferred to take their chances with the sea over captivity. 

It would be a shame to lose something so lovely, if he ever tried.

They would not give him the chance to try.

For now, it was a simple joy just to watch the blond soak up the unexpected pleasure of a good bath, those blue eyes lighting up, the tense line of his mouth relaxing as the heat worked it’s wonders on his cold and aching muscles.

Cloud burrowed down into the warmth of the water like a little prey animal, like he’d been deprived of it for too long, his wary expression easing into something so unguarded that Angeal allowed himself to smile from his place on the bed, keeping silent to let the boy fully enjoy his newfound luxury. If it disarmed him for a short while, made him more tolerant of his situation, that could only be of benefit to his hosts.

It took a few minutes to shake off his wonder, Cloud wriggling his fingers in the warmth, sinking back against the tub like he could fall asleep there, but thankfully he did not, choosing instead to survey his immediate surroundings. The bar of soap was within reach, a small table at a reasonable height on the other side of the bath, and when Cloud noticed it, he reached out to take it up, fingers closing carefully around it to avoid dropping it into the water.

It lathered up beautifully on his skin as he rubbed it in slow lazy circles over his chest and down his arms, the soft violet colour from the lavender only highlighting the lack of sun damage, and the bright blossoming bruising starting to yellow at his shoulder. The shoulder he had landed on when Sephiroth had thrown him. 

It had been a bad break, thankfully no worse than that after Angeal had been able to use his magic on him, but he had been cautious about healing him fully. Genesis only ever played with toys he was meaning to steal, and that he hadn’t run Cloud through like all the other over-compensating rats on that accursed Shinra ship meant he intended to keep him. It was a good thing, too. When Cloud had moved to run, the only tell Angeal had seen was the way he nursed his shoulder in preparation for quick movement. It had been enough to stop him in his tracks, but it was a sure thing that Cloud was fast. His small stature and the way he assessed his surroundings was testament to it.

The sound of something solid hitting the bottom of the metal bathtub roused Angeal from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Cloud’s head lulling forward, soft lashes grazing freckled cheeks as he dozed in the water, suds from the soap he had dropped not yet rinsed from his neck and chest. 

The boy was tired. 

Not so much a surprise as none of them had ever caught him sleeping in their various visits to his allotted cell. They had suspected he hadn't been sleeping at all, and the evidence to support the theory was becoming apparent. It would have been too much to ask for him to lower his guard before he felt secure enough to do so, but having that choice taken entirely away from him by the needs of his own body seemed even worse. There was no telling how he’d react to knowing he’d fallen asleep when he didn’t feel safe. Especially in a bathtub. That was just bad practice.

“Cloud.” Angeal prompted him softly at first, then a little louder the second time, until those sleepy blue eyes fluttered halfway open, Cloud glancing around himself like he’d forgotten where he was. It clearly wasn't enough to help him shake off the worst of his exhaustion entirely, and the boy seemed to be leaning back into a doze right before Angeal’s very eyes. That urged him to his feet, hands lifting to tighten the knot at the back of his bandana to keep his dark hair from his eyes, and at the heavy footfall of his boots across the cabin floor, Cloud shook himself alert like he'd been shocked, shrinking to curl up in the tub as he came closer.

“You will drown yourself if you fall asleep in there.” Angeal reasoned, settling to a kneel beside the tub’s edge. It came up to his lower chest, the water high enough to cover most of Cloud’s body with its damningly soapy surface, and Angeal kept his eyes on Cloud’s face instead of where he would rather let them roam as he lifted his hands to tug his gloves off, “I will help you.”

Cloud made to protest, chapped lips parting ever so slightly as he shook his head, his eyes wide as he realised there was nothing else he could do. If he stood up, he would be exposed. If he stayed where he was, Angeal had free range to touch him. The panic caught in his chest like it had in the cell, and when warm hands settled into the mess of his hair to tilt his head back, Cloud followed the motions rigidly as thick fingers circled in against his scalp.

“This isn’t cause for alarm.” Angeal soothed, gently, “I’m going to wash your hair, and make sure you stay awake. Can you manage the rest?”

Cloud blinked up at him in surprise. Perhaps at what he considered generosity when Angeal only wanted to touch him. Perhaps because Angeal wasn't willing to test his boundaries and touch anywhere else for the time being? That mindset of his really was so very dark.

“Okay...” The boy conceded after a short deliberation, and Angeal was glad he had agreed to that much, at least.

Between the both of them, the blond was soaped up and rinsed off a great deal quicker than if he’d tried to do it on his own, though a great deal of their joint handiwork tested Angeal’s restraint more than he thought it would. The sight of Cloud lifting those beautiful legs one by one out of the water to lather them up with the soap he had dropped when he was dozing was fuel for a great many fantasies, soft hands stroking over wet skin, and disturbing the water enough to offer tantalising glimpses of what lay beneath it. 

The noises he made as Angeal’s fingers worked through his blond hair, the gold of it much more apparent after a thorough cleaning, were borderline obscene. 

It had been an exercise in trust when Angeal had tipped him back into the water to wet his hair after he’d soaped it up, but they had gotten there eventually. It might have had something to do with the way Cloud relaxed into his hands after he had begun to hum a simple tune as a distraction, those blue eyes going glassy as he arched his neck into the cradle of his palms. Cloud liked music. That, or the sound of his voice, which was quite flattering. 

Something to note for later. 

The water had begun to cool by the time they were done, tainted with the few days worth of murk that had lingered on Cloud’s skin since he had been liberated, and he looked much better when he was asked to come out, Angeal holding the thick, fluffy drying cloth up to cover Cloud’s modesty as he stood up in the water. Angeal closed his arms around that tempting waist, certain he could circle it with his hands alone, folding the cloth around Cloud’s hips and lifting him with very little trouble.

Cloud let out a sound like a breathy gasp, something that kindled heat in the pirate’s lower stomach as he took the opportunity to press the boy close, sliding the damp length of him down his own body in the guise of putting him down on solid ground, the weight of him barely anything as he set him on his bare feet on the floor. 

He was so close when Angeal released him, wavering on his feet like he wanted to lean into the touches, and he looked so very fragile with his hair soaked and dropping in wet ruffled spikes over his eyes, the deep bruising from lack of rest beneath them more apparent now the boy was standing still enough to look at. He was frowning softly, as if he were trying to puzzle out something utterly perplexing, that little pucker of confusion between his eyebrows as endearing as the way he brazenly stared up at Angeal like he was the most baffling person he’d ever met.

It would have been nothing to kiss him, to lean down through the astonishing amount of inches between him and the petite blond’s mouth, and suckle on that plump lower lip. It looked like Cloud had been biting it, and Angeal wanted very much to take his turn at that, but with great restraint, he stepped back, hands canvassing a slow map of bony hips beneath the drying cloth as he withdrew.

Cloud wavered in place, much as he had done in the cell when Angeal had released him. Quite fascinating to watch, but as Cloud gathered what was left of his scattered sense, he clutched the towel around himself tighter, ducked his head and hurried behind the privacy screen again, hair dripping water in his wake. 

It was probably for the best. 

Angeal moved back to the bed, gathering the clothes he had left there for when Cloud was clean. They belonged to Genesis, something that was bound to inspire more trouble than it was worth, but the boy was far too small to fit in anything belonging to anyone else, and he wasn’t about to salvage a cloak from any of Sephiroth’s acolytes to clothe him. 

The pants were a buffed black leather, worn in enough that the feel of them was like butter between his fingers, and the shirt was dark red. It had been one of Genesis’ tighter shirts so not too far over the blond's size. It was more than a little revealing, with a plunging dip over the chest laced up with black cord. The sleeves were not as overwhelming as his lover's usual garb, a little more fitted, and no lace in sight compared to the fancy garments the redhead preferred. The underwear he’d grabbed were a little form-fitting, silky little things that would cling in rousing places, but better those than the sometimes lacy beauties that Genesis preferred to tease his lovers with. 

Cloud would probably refuse those altogether, and as pleasing as that thought was, on this ship, leather on bare skin was more Sephiroth’s speciality.

Angeal passed the clothes around the edge of the screen without looking, and Cloud took them quickly, probably to dissuade him from coming around to dress him himself. The idea held appeal, but instead, Angeal rapped lightly on the wooden edge of the screen to steal the blond’s attention without compromising his flimsy notion of temporary seclusion.

“Please leave the shirt off for a moment. I need to take a look at your shoulder.”

There was no acknowledgement, but after a few minutes of strange noises and some rather creative cursing as the blond tried to work his pants up over those lovely legs, Cloud re-emerged from behind the screen dressed in Genesis’ leathers, red shirt held up to his chest like a barrier. It looked like he’d scrubbed at his hair with the cloth and raked his fingers through it to try and dry it into some sense of style. It worked well enough, but Angeal had brought a brush for that exact reason, and gestured Cloud closer to where he was seated on the edge of the bed to sort him out.

He looked gorgeous in black, despite his bare feet and his bruises. The waist of the trousers was low, riding his hips, and hugging at the swell of his ass like some ridiculously provocative dream. It drew attention to the faded bruising on his stomach where Angeal remembered striking him to prevent him from running, and when Cloud stopped a greater distance away than Angeal intended, he made it clear he was not prepared to put up with anymore stalling for the day. There was food to cook, and mouths to feed, and Cloud being avoidant was starting to ride on his last nerve. The blond wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t reach, and his arms were just long enough for him to capture those enticing hips with his hands and drag him closer.

Cloud batted at his grip with an irritated grunt, digging his feet into the boards like he was prepared to fight to prevent himself from being reeled in, but it did nothing against Angeal’s strength, even as it tried his patience.

“Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Why do you care?” The blond snarked back, immediately clamping his teeth down into that lower lip again, as if surprised by his own outburst. Clearly he’d grown tired of his own complacence towards being manhandled for the day.

Angeal didn’t answer, pulling Cloud to stand between his legs, and only firming his grip when the blond tried to yank away. At one point, Cloud gave a cry of dismay as both of his feet left the ground to try and force Angeal to give up his hold, but he was held fast in midair, nothing else to support him but for the hands clamped tight around his hips. The tension in the air spiked tenfold when he realised he had no way to free himself.

“How are you doing that?” Cloud pressed both feet to the edge of the mattress in his desperation, throwing his whole bodyweight back to try and force his way out, the fright in his voice so apparent that he almost made himself cough with it. His blunt little claws scratched at the hands that held him, but Angeal had known Genesis his whole life and a kitten with a temper would not get the better of him, “What are you? Let go of me!”

When a bare foot tried to stomp down between his own legs in a rude release tactic, Angeal had had enough, Cloud paling at the sight of his thunderous glare before he pulled forward hard, throwing Cloud down over his lap roughly enough to wind him, giving the boy a face full of bed sheets and a knee into the bruise at his stomach. It wrenched a pained cry from him, but it did what it was supposed to, shocking the blond into a stunned sprawl while he tried to catch his breath. 

Angeal held him down, one hand splayed like an anchor between his bony shoulder blades, the other sliding over the uppermost thigh of his outer leg to keep them down. His fingers just barely cupped the tantalising curve of the boy’s ass, his thumb dipping down between the slightly spread thighs to rub against the seam that hid everything he wanted to see. It sent a jolt of heat down between his own thighs, which was less than helpful, given his quarry was frightened out of his mind. It didn't stop him from wanting to press down against that seam, trace it with his thumb, with his tongue. He wanted to move his hands higher and squeeze, but he knew it was far too soon for that.

Oh, but Cloud filled out those leathers well. Genesis would be most difficult about it.

“You need to calm down. Once you have, you will apologise, and then I will let you up.” His voice was gruff, lusty and thick the way it usually sounded when he held Zack in this exact position. It usually called for less clothes, the younger boy’s black mane a tousled mess from pulling, and his ass a cherry red from things that he couldn’t help but beg for. It was a distracting image, one that would stir him against Cloud’s stomach if he held the boy down for much longer, “Do you hear me, Cloud?”

Cloud didn’t speak, but his head nodded fervently into the sheets. The tension that the bath had soaked out of him was back, knotting up his shoulders, and he was lying still like he was expecting an attack. It was no wonder. Given his reaction to anyone touching him so far, and the proximity of the bed, he was probably working himself up into a state. His fists were clenched into the cotton thread count either side of his head, almost as if he was trying to smother himself.

Angeal felt himself soften at the boy's distress despite everything, the hand at Cloud's shoulder easing up to rub light circles into his bare spine, and he heaved out a sigh, breathing out the anger with it. The lust didn't abate, but he paid it no mind. This wasn’t Zack being deliberately naughty to earn himself a punishment. This wasn’t Genesis being contrary just to get a rise out of him. It was his own Pavlovian response to dealing with wilful lovers, applied to the perfectly understandable rebellion of an appealing yet misguided soul, pulled from the sham of his life for his own good, little that he knew it.

It was difficult to hold Cloud’s reactions against him when, once upon a time, Zack had been very much the same.

“It’s okay, Cloud.” He swallowed back the growl in his voice, urged himself to settle as he stared down at his hand against that leather, shifting his thumb a little higher to brush against the swell of a cheek just to feel enough to calm himself as well, “I know you panicked, but you still tried to kick me, and that was extremely rude.”

Cloud turned his head slightly to show he was listening. His chest hitched, trying to swallow down the little bubbles of panic still threatening to consume him.

“You know how to fix it, don’t you?" He leaned down further over Cloud's back, but he didn't know whether it was to shelter or to corner him, "I told you how.”

The nod came slower this time, Cloud’s hair brushing against the sheets in the quiet of the cabin.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice thin and on the verge of frustrated tears, “I didn't mean… I’m so sorry.” 

Angeal pet at his back for a moment longer before he wrapped an arm around Cloud’s waist to help him get up, the blond’s knees weakly sinking him down onto the edge of the mattress at Angeal’s side before he could find the strength to stand. The pirate was not concerned if it meant he got to enjoy the closeness for a little longer, wrapping an arm around smaller shoulders to pull the boy into a light embrace that Cloud seemed to turn into against his better sense, even if he didn't reach up to cling back as Angeal expected.

“That was good, Cloud. You did very well.” 

Cloud only turned his head further into the broad chest he was pressed to, hiding his face there. Perhaps he was ashamed, either of what he had tried to do, how he had reacted to the repercussions, or even for letting himself be so afraid to apologise. It didn't matter which. He had followed instruction, and that was important. Angeal didn't see the point in driving the lesson home, content to let whatever was happening in Cloud's own head cement the learning. The silence that had fallen over the both of them was comfortable for the first time since they’d entered the cabin, and it was a promising starting point. Something they desperately needed with him when he was prepared to sit in a cell with no company, and no sleep. 

Angeal was satisfied with being able to touch without fear of spooking the boy curled up against him, and Cloud was leaning fully into the support of his arms to help put himself back on an even keel. It was peaceful, warm. Unexpected that Cloud would seek such reassurance given how adamantly he had been against it the entire time he had been aboard.

Was he so starved of kind touches?

Angeal’s hand left the soft skin of Cloud’s upper arm to thread his fingers into blond hair, thumb coasting gently down behind the shell of his ear. If he hadn’t been paying rapt attention to the body practically in his lap, he would have missed how Cloud clenched up to hold in the shudder that rolled through him beneath his hands.

He seemed much calmer now, breaths no longer short and sharp. His restless hands were clenching into fists against his thighs, short nails digging little grooves in the leather, but he was still for the most part. Perhaps ready to be more co-operative.

Angeal turned his mouth into fluffy clean hair in a light brush, the same way he had in the cell when the blond had agreed to his wishes.

“Would you like to help me prepare dinner, Cloud?”

Another delayed nod came against his chest, almost slow enough to be an agreeable nuzzle into the fabric of his shirt.

“Alright, then. Let me take a look at your injuries, and then we’ll get you dressed.”

Cloud was almost docile as he urged him to his feet, eyes puffy and red but his face was dry, like he’d refused to cry. He was so very brave in the face of his own fears even through the lethargy that dragged at him, and Angeal had no doubts at all that when the time came to prove to him that he had nothing to fear at all, Cloud would be yet another rambunctious addition to the crew. 

There was personality there, under his unpredictable attempts to keep himself safe. Something wild and contrary that yearned to be free after however many years of Shinra training had tried to take that yearning from him, and if his fear didn’t break him first, Angeal hoped they would get to see it unfettered.

When he pressed his hand to Cloud’s bare stomach over the milder bruising, it jumped beneath his touch, and he eased his gaze up to look into exhausted eyes to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about. Cloud stared back at him steadily, as if searching for something in his face, his short stature making it easy to look into blue eyes as the green wisps of a cure leapt to life against his palm, sinking into fair skin to cleanse it of injury.

The magic reflected in those pretty eyes like a faint unearthly glow, and Angeal knew with unparalleled certainty that Cloud would only be more beautiful as one of them.


End file.
